Five Minutes
by Siena Christmas
Summary: It only took five minutes for him to die. This is a DEATHFIC! You have been duly warned :)


_**Summary:**_ _It only took five minutes for him to die._

 _ **A/N:**_ _Hi everyone! This is my first Hawaii Five-0 story. Any comments or constructive criticism you have after reading is welcome!_

 _Originally, this story was titled 'Cargo Pants.' It was going to be a short, cute, and funny scene in which Catherine took Steve pants shopping._

 _That is not what happened._

 _Go figure._

 _ **Warning:**_ _This story contains blood, sweat, tears, and death, not to mention quite a bit of language._

 _ **Disclaimer:**_ _Let it be 'duly noted' that I neither own nor claim to own any part, person, or plot line of the Hawaii Five-0 franchise._

 _My story is pending._

 ** _FIVE MINUTES_**

 _ **Minute One**_

Ever since their first meeting, Danny had made fun of Steve's cargo pants.

It didn't matter what the weather, what the job, or, oftentimes, what the occasion. Hot or cold, dry or humid, kidnapping or murder or heist, chasing a suspect or drinking a cold beer on the lanai, Steve wore cargo pants.

Sometimes it drove Danny insane.

The same damn cargo pants, day after day after day, with all its damn little pockets with little navySEAL trinkets and useful items. Tan, beige, army green. Always cargo pants.

Cargo pants and a T-shirt.

Synonymous with Steven John McGarrett.

There was absolutely no reason why Steve's annoying cargo pants should be encased in an evidence bag.

No reason at all.

Dammit, Steve, why didn't you put something useful in one of those billions of pockets of yours?

Danny knew, and even worse, Steve knew, that it took only a matter of minutes for someone to bleed out if the femoral artery in the thigh was in any way severed, cut, or destroyed. They both knew that.

And yet Danny denied it with all his being.

Because this was Steve, and it was supposed to be him.

It was supposed to be him.

Gushing, spurting, oozing, splurging, blood everywhere, so much blood and all because a little tiny bullet had penetrated Steve's leg at just the right spot, just where the important artery was.

What were the goddamn chances of that?

 ** _Minute Two_**

Steve looked down, and he knew. Danny could see it on his face. Today was Steven McGarrett's last day on planet earth, and Danny could see him trying to think up everything he wanted to say but never got a chance to.

"Danny," gasped Steve. "I'm gonna die."

"Profound," Danny snarked with a quivering smile.

Steve, with only minutes left to live, still managed to put on Annoyed Disgusted Super SEAL Face. "What?" he asked.

"You're gonna die. That's very profound," said Danny, blinking hard and fast when his vision blurred with tears. "And it's also not true. You're not gonna die, you Neanderthal. Okay? You're gonna be fine."

"You call an ambulance?"

Danny's breath stuttered. They both knew damn well that their phones had been destroyed by the perps who had kidnapped them in the first place. Escape had been a near success. Back to back, Steve and Danny had taken out their kidnappers.

Back to back. "I'll always have your back," Danny heard himself saying.

And then Steve had gotten shot. With Danny at his back.

What kind of parter was he? What kind of back-up let his partner get shot in the femoral artery?

"Danny," coughed Steve. "C'mon, man, I'm bleeding out! I deserve some attention, buddy."

"Sorry," sighed Danny. "Just hang on."

"No one's coming," said Steve. It wasn't a question.

Danny blinked harder. Damn water works.

"No," he whispered. "No one's coming."

Steve was calm, and that made Danny mad, because Steve was dying and he would never steal Danny's car again, never be there to go ballistic with a fire extinguisher whenever Danny chose to make eggs, never take him deep-sea fishing ever again.

And he would never again be seen walking the Island in cargo pants and a T-shirt.

"Damn cargo pants," he sobbed.

Steve looked miffed. "How many times do I have to tell you?" he demanded tiredly. "They're good wardrobe."

Danny noted the weakness in his friend's tone and grasped his fingers tightly. "Steven, if you die on me..."

"Danny, I'm gonna die." Steve's face was resolute, mouth set in a firm line. "Don't deny it, don't lie to yourself. I am going to die. I have maybe three minutes left of my life, a life which I am not ashamed of. Not a single moment."

"What about all those times you stole my car?"

Steve smiled. "Nope."

"What about going to that parking garage and getting blown up?"

"Nope."

"What about never bringing back-up to a scene?"

"You are the back-up."

Danny laughed mirthlessly. "Yeah, and look where that got you."

Steve frowned.

"You have aneurysm face," observed Danny.

"Do not."

"Do too."

"I'm dying, you have to agree with me."

"That's not fair, Steve."

"It was last time I checked."

"You checked? When did you check?"

"Just now."

"Shut up."

"Oh please, you first."

Danny wished that the playful bickering could continue for hours. Days, even. He wanted to keep hearing Steve's voice, even if all he did was bitch. Because that would mean he was still alive.

"Keep talking, Steve," he urged. "What...what should I tell Catherine?"

Steve's eyes squeezed shut. "Cath," he whispered, and Danny was horrified to see tears slip out from under Steve's lashes. "I...I dunno, Danny, there's so much I want to say...can't find the words..."

"C'mon, gimme something, man," coaxed Danny, half-jokingly, even as saltwater mixed in with the cut on his cheek. It stung.

A cut. A fucking superficial paper cut.

Danny hated that Steve was lying there dying from a bullet would to the thigh, and he was going to walk with nothing more than a teeny tiny _cut_.

"You okay?" asked Steve breathlessly. His face was almost translucent, his lips turning blue.

 ** _Minute Three_**

"What the hell kind of a question is that? 'Am I okay'?!" Danny exploded. "You my friend, are BLEEDING TO DEATH, in case you haven't noticed and there is literally NOTHING I can do about it!"

"Control freak," whispered Steve, his eyes slipping closed.

Danny's heart rate skyrocketed. "Oh no, nononononono, c'mon, super SEAL, stay awake, you hear me?"

Lightly but with force, Danny patted Steve's pale cheek.

Actually, pale was an understatement. White was more of a better description.

Steve's eyes didn't open. Danny smacked him a little harder.

"Come on, buddy. Steven!"

Steve's eyes crept open but only made it to half mast. He groaned. "Danny." The word was barely a whoosh of air.

Barely audible.

Barely there.

Danny looked into Steve's eyes and knew that time was running very, very short. "Stay with me, babe, c'mon, can you open your eyes all the way?"

"Bossy," mumbled Steve.

"What, we're reduced to one-syllable words? You can do better than that!"

Even as he tried, Danny knew it was useless. Steve was going to die...only a matter of time now.

"Exsanguanation," said Steve softly. Danny leaned in to hear better.

"What's that, babe?"

"Ex-exsang-uina-ation," Steve coughed and rasped with difficulty. "More'n one...one sy...syllab...sylla..."

"Hey hey hey, calm down, I gotcha, I know what you mean, buddy, I gotcha," Danny soothed. He gripped Steve's lax hand tightly. "C'mon," he whispered, tears puddling on the floor with his friend's blood. "C'mon. Steven, I don't want you to die." His breath hitched.

Steve's lips curved into a funny half-smile. "Selfish," he whispered, blood trickling from a corner of his mouth.

Danny choked a laugh. Or a sob. Or maybe a bit of both.

"You got that right. Learned that from you."

He expected a retort. He _wanted_ a retort. Needed one. That would mean Steve was still with him enough to reply.

But Steve didn't say anything.

 ** _Minute Four_**

Steve's body weakened and the battle for consciousness was near its end.

Blood stained the ground.

Blood, sweat, and tears.

Danny held Steve's hand and wiped tears from his friend's cheek. Barely awake, Steve followed Danny's movements with his eyes.

It was quiet.

Trying to speak, Steve parted his lips, but instead of words, blood flowed out and dribbled down his chin.

He choked and coughed, breath stuttering and hands scrabbling weakly for purchase. Danny clutched the trembling, cold fingers and held on tight. "Hold on, hold on to me, buddy," he whispered tearfully. "I know it hurts, Steve. Squeeze as hard as you want."

Steve barely managed a twitch.

Danny's chest ached. Steve was so close. So, so close to death and the only thing Danny could do was watch.

Watch and wait.

Wait and watch.

It felt so wrong, just sitting here while Steve was dying, but it was all he could do. It was all he could do to be here, to be with Steve as he met with death face to face.

Steve's lips moved, forming words, but his lungs had no air left. Grasping his friend's hand with care, Danny leaned in to hear.

"Cath...tell Cath...I l-love...love her..."

"I will, I will Steve, I promise," Danny whispered. "You have Danno's One Hundred Percent Guarantee, okay?"

Steve grinned, showing blood-stained teeth. "Love you too, Danno."

Danny was wracked with a new set of sobs. "I love you, buddy."

 ** _Minute Five_**

Steve breathed.

He breathed in quick, shallow gasps that whined and choked, stuttered and struggled and rattled.

His eyes were glued to Danny's, fingers melded together.

They sat in silence for that last minute. Hearts pounding together, lungs breathing together, hands holding each other, being _alive_ together.

Together knowing that nothing lasted forever.

Danny's heart skipped a beat as Steve's breath stuttered to a halt.

His mind froze as he realized that there was no _Steve_ in the dark blue eyes in front of him.

No breath.

Not a blink.

Not a sound.

Not a heartbeat.

Steve McGarrett was dead.

 ** _Epilogue_**

Kono arrived on scene and knew that she was late.

Horribly, regretfully, heart achingly, painstakingly _late_.

Too late to save Steve McGarrett's life.

And too late to save Danny Williams.

He was far gone by the time Kono got there in the middle of the night. Muttering and mumbling, he sat next to a prone Steve, holding tightly to the dead man's hand.

"Danny...?" Kono asked hesitantly.

Danny looked up and grinned. "Shhhhhh," he whispered, raising a bloody finger to his lips.

Kono's skin prickled with horror.

"The Neanderthal tired himself out. He's asleep now...I've been busy doing this." He held up an evidence bag...full of blood. "I gathered it up from the ground. Guess Steve lost it some time or other. But not to worry. I'll give it to him when he wakes up."

Kono didn't know what to do.

At her side, Catherine arrived. "Oh my god," she breathed, covering her mouth with her hands. "Oh my god. Steve."

And yet she did not advance towards her boyfriend's body, because Danny was there, his hands cupped full of dripping blood. He tipped Steve's head back, and Catherine heard him say, "Let's get some of this back into, you, babe. You need this to get better."

"I'll call the paramedics," said Kono dazedly.

Catherine blinked away tears.

"They're both gone, aren't they?"

Kono didn't answer. They stood in silence as flashing red and blue lights cast eerie shadows over the gruesome scene.

"Hey, Cath?" called Danny suddenly, his hand tilting. Steve's blood spilled from his palm.

Catherine gulped. "What is it?"

"Steve says he...he loves you."

And then it broke, his facade, and he crumbled with a scream. "SAID! Steve SAID he loves...LOVED...loved you...he loved you..."

He fell sideways, landing on top of Steve's body. "Stupid fucking past tense," he wept brokenly. "Stupid fucking cargo pants!"

Quickly, Kono rushed forwards and dragged Danny away from the scene. With what little energy he had left, Danny fought. "No!" he yelled hoarsely. "No! Lemme go! Help! Steve! STEVE!"

Wordlessly, Kono wrapped her arms around Danny and held him there, rubbing his back until the dam broke.

"Five minutes," he sobbed into Kono's shoulder.

"What do you mean?" she questioned gently.

Danny shuddered. "He was so strong. He could swim for miles, run for miles, endure torture for hours. But it only took five minutes for him to die."

She held him closer and tighter, planting soft kisses in his hair and on his forehead. She let him get blood all over her clothes, let his tears soak her jacket and let his nose run all over her shoulder.

But she didn't say anything.

What was there that she could say?

 ** _The End._**


End file.
